Voting Post: Best Romantic Flash Fiction
Best Romantic Flash Fiction (101-500 words)
Complete rules and procedures can be found on the main voting page. To summarize:
1. To submit your votes for this category, copy and paste the code below into a comment to this post (will be screened), or send it in an email to dramioneawards[at]gmail[dot]com. No anonymous comments allowed!
2. You must vote for your top THREE favorite fics, and rank them with your top favorite fic in the #1 position.
3. When casting your vote, please use the number assigned to the fic, rather than writing out the whole title.
CODE (1b):
1b - Best Romantic Flash Fiction:
1. (TOP CHOICE)
2.
3.
Return to Main Page
Nominees:
-1-
Beginnings, by uniquepov
Hermione loved autumn. The changing leaves, the crispness in the air, the sense of dormant possibilities… and also, in her younger years, the start of a new school term. She snuggled deeper into the cushions of the garden glider, smiling to herself. Her hands were wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, a book open in her lap. Sighing contentedly, she closed her eyes and rested her head on the cushions.
Almost immediately, she felt strong hands close over her eyes. His distinct cologne gave him away, as did the fact that the wards hadn’t triggered.
“Welcome home, husband” she said smilingly. Chuckling, Draco uncovered her eyes and dropped into the seat beside her.
“My wife,” he grinned, shrugging out of his travelling cloak, his blonde ponytail swaying. Suddenly, he sat up, fishing in his cloak and producing a gift-wrapped package, which he presented with a flourish. “I’d almost forgotten; I brought you something.”
Hermione looked curiously at the package resting in her swollen lap. Opening the wrappings, she fingered the cover of the newest edition of Hogwarts: A History. She felt tears well up in her eyes as she read his inscription:
For Mummy -
where our love began
- Daddy
-2-
Content, by drcjsnider
Hermione snuggled up to Draco feeling all warm and satisfied. The man could perform absolute miracles in bed. She felt him kiss her head before he pulled her more tightly to his chest.
“Happy, luv?”
“Umhumm,” she sighed, completely at ease. She and Draco had been together for over a year and she believed that their relationship just kept getting stronger.
He stroked her hair for several minutes before stating softly, “Hermione, I want to marry you.”
Hermione’s heart sped up and her breath caught in her throat. “What?”
“I want to marry you, but I’m scared. I’m scared you’ll never love me as much as you loved Weasley.”
She propped herself up on one arm and stared into his worried face. “Oh Draco," she sighed. “I loved Ron with my whole heart, and now I feel exactly the same way about you. He was the love of my childhood, but you are the love of my adulthood.”
She watched as the concern melted off his face and was replaced by a look of utter contentment. She leaned toward him until their lips met, more positive than ever before that this relationship was meant to be.
-3-
Gifts, by floorcoaster
ONE
There is music playing but the notes blend together. The wizarding world is celebrating the end of war, and no one knows it’s his birthday, too.
She gives him three looks that night. The first is surprise--even he doesn’t know why he’s there. The second is curiosity. After all, he hasn’t crumbled under the weight of the whispers all around him. The third is determination, just before she crosses the room.
He doesn’t remember what she said, but he spent the rest of the night distracted by her surprising curves, dipped into a dress the color of midnight.
TWO
At twenty-four, she gives him three kisses. One at twelve-oh-one in the morning, the last of the night before she refuses to see him again--for a few hours.
The next is in front of a hundred guests, sweet and perfect and just a little too short. Her smile is brilliant in the morning sun; it lights the room. In a twist, he gives her his name.
The third kiss is bestowed at midnight, when they finally reach their hotel room and fall, exhausted, into bed. But their lives are just beginning, and he slips off her white dress.
THREE
When he turns thirty, his whole family is there to celebrate. Five, three, and four months. They are all beautiful, and he can’t believe his good fortune. He’ll never believe he deserves such joy, but he isn’t one to complain.
She is radiant in red tonight, telling anyone who will listen that her smallest gift had learned to roll over just that morning.
The biggest gift zooms through the gathered guests on a training-broom, nearly crashing at his father’s feet.
His second gift is pensive, catching her father’s eye between yawns. Draco winks. Hermione smiles. Life is exceptionally good.
-4-
How I Fell In Love With My Wife, by ilkee
This was how he liked her best. Asleep.
When her dark, frank eyes were not staring at him, stretching his reluctant emotions like a rubber band, he could finally drop the scowl that had been etched on his face since the day he was told he would have to marry Hermione Granger.
As she lay in quiet surrender he could look openly at her. He could allow his eyes to take in the curve of her shoulder, to roam the resting planes of her cheeks, and the scattering of freckles on her nose. And to stare for long stretches of time at her mouth.
He hadn’t slept properly in months.
He lay next to her, in the bed she insisted on sharing, and listened to her breathing, eyes focused on her softly parted lips.
He had never really touched her. Not even to hold her hand on the day they were married. It felt like an insurmountable obstacle. The Great Wall of China.
Once, when she was sleeping, like she was now, he poked a curl lying defenselessly on his pillow.
But now, his fingers craved something far worse.
He wanted to touch her mouth.
For weeks he had been consumed with the idea. For some reason, the know-it-all’s mouth had become an obsession. With sideways glances he would catalog the many states of her mouth throughout the day. Her different smiles, a familiar smirk, pursed when she was reading, and this one, his favorite, her mouth at rest. This was the one that he sacrificed sleep for. The one he was desperate to touch.
He could do it. He could reach across and touch her mouth and be free of this madness and she would never know. He had been telling himself this for days. She would never know.
And just like he had done every night for more than a week, he slowly reached across the small space, eyes glancing up to hers to make sure she stayed locked in slumber.
But he stopped a millimeter away, the soft puffs of her hot, moist breath fanning over his fingertips and his heart racing. He watched his fingers hover over her mouth. She would never know.
He looked up at her then to see that it was safe, only to find dark, serious, eyes pinning him. His breath stuck in his throat. He was caught. Frozen in place.
Her gaze dropped to his fingertips and then back to his eyes and his heart hammered in his chest. And then her lips moved, and his eyes were riveted there, as her small pink mouth closed around his fingertip in a soft kiss.
“Wife,” he said in a surprised, strangled whisper. She smiled and wrapped her hand around his and brought it to her chest, and closed her eyes.
-5-
Malfoyish, by savepureness
“I don’t know what you want from me, honestly.” He pauses, waiting for a reply that doesn’t come. Instead, he gets a glare; a long, painful glare, the very definition of miscommunication. “There is, indeed, a hidden side of me. But that, I can never let you see.”
Draco’s last words do trigger a reaction. Hermione stands up and starts pacing the room, perhaps more nervous than we she had to take the O.W.L.S. She might hold the key to understanding in her hand - the key to define their relationship, and perhaps to finally step out of the vicious circle they’ve been going in for too many months.
“Is that hidden side -“ she pauses briefly, “- bad?”
A flicker of amusement animates his features. He looks impish when he gives her a lopsided smile.
“Not really, no. It might be, though.”
Suddenly, he buries his face in his hands. Now that is unexpected: Draco is, all in all, renowned for maintaining perfect composure. Unless he breaks; and to the date, Hermione thinks she remains one of the few who have seen what’s hiding under the golden cover.
“Is this - it?” she asks, uncertain. “Like this, like now, when you panic? Because if it is, it’s nothing. It happens to everyone, all the time.” She tries to sound encouraging and optimistic, though that part of her unconcerned with troll reproduction or how to count backwards in Rhunic - that part called female intuition - tells her she might be wrong.
She is wrong.
“I keep it caged, Hermione,” he finally says, a sea of sadness in his eyes. “I can’t - I can’t control it; and I’m afraid to let it go.”
They’ll need another full (but vicious) circle, another cycle of months, before she finally figures out that meant I love you.
Return to Main Page
Complete rules and procedures can be found on the main voting page. To summarize:
1. To submit your votes for this category, copy and paste the code below into a comment to this post (will be screened), or send it in an email to dramioneawards[at]gmail[dot]com. No anonymous comments allowed!
2. You must vote for your top THREE favorite fics, and rank them with your top favorite fic in the #1 position.
3. When casting your vote, please use the number assigned to the fic, rather than writing out the whole title.
CODE (1b):
1b - Best Romantic Flash Fiction:
1. (TOP CHOICE)
2.
3.
Return to Main Page
Nominees:
-1-
Beginnings, by uniquepov
Hermione loved autumn. The changing leaves, the crispness in the air, the sense of dormant possibilities… and also, in her younger years, the start of a new school term. She snuggled deeper into the cushions of the garden glider, smiling to herself. Her hands were wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, a book open in her lap. Sighing contentedly, she closed her eyes and rested her head on the cushions.
Almost immediately, she felt strong hands close over her eyes. His distinct cologne gave him away, as did the fact that the wards hadn’t triggered.
“Welcome home, husband” she said smilingly. Chuckling, Draco uncovered her eyes and dropped into the seat beside her.
“My wife,” he grinned, shrugging out of his travelling cloak, his blonde ponytail swaying. Suddenly, he sat up, fishing in his cloak and producing a gift-wrapped package, which he presented with a flourish. “I’d almost forgotten; I brought you something.”
Hermione looked curiously at the package resting in her swollen lap. Opening the wrappings, she fingered the cover of the newest edition of Hogwarts: A History. She felt tears well up in her eyes as she read his inscription:
For Mummy -
where our love began
- Daddy
-2-
Content, by drcjsnider
Hermione snuggled up to Draco feeling all warm and satisfied. The man could perform absolute miracles in bed. She felt him kiss her head before he pulled her more tightly to his chest.
“Happy, luv?”
“Umhumm,” she sighed, completely at ease. She and Draco had been together for over a year and she believed that their relationship just kept getting stronger.
He stroked her hair for several minutes before stating softly, “Hermione, I want to marry you.”
Hermione’s heart sped up and her breath caught in her throat. “What?”
“I want to marry you, but I’m scared. I’m scared you’ll never love me as much as you loved Weasley.”
She propped herself up on one arm and stared into his worried face. “Oh Draco," she sighed. “I loved Ron with my whole heart, and now I feel exactly the same way about you. He was the love of my childhood, but you are the love of my adulthood.”
She watched as the concern melted off his face and was replaced by a look of utter contentment. She leaned toward him until their lips met, more positive than ever before that this relationship was meant to be.
-3-
Gifts, by floorcoaster
ONE
There is music playing but the notes blend together. The wizarding world is celebrating the end of war, and no one knows it’s his birthday, too.
She gives him three looks that night. The first is surprise--even he doesn’t know why he’s there. The second is curiosity. After all, he hasn’t crumbled under the weight of the whispers all around him. The third is determination, just before she crosses the room.
He doesn’t remember what she said, but he spent the rest of the night distracted by her surprising curves, dipped into a dress the color of midnight.
TWO
At twenty-four, she gives him three kisses. One at twelve-oh-one in the morning, the last of the night before she refuses to see him again--for a few hours.
The next is in front of a hundred guests, sweet and perfect and just a little too short. Her smile is brilliant in the morning sun; it lights the room. In a twist, he gives her his name.
The third kiss is bestowed at midnight, when they finally reach their hotel room and fall, exhausted, into bed. But their lives are just beginning, and he slips off her white dress.
THREE
When he turns thirty, his whole family is there to celebrate. Five, three, and four months. They are all beautiful, and he can’t believe his good fortune. He’ll never believe he deserves such joy, but he isn’t one to complain.
She is radiant in red tonight, telling anyone who will listen that her smallest gift had learned to roll over just that morning.
The biggest gift zooms through the gathered guests on a training-broom, nearly crashing at his father’s feet.
His second gift is pensive, catching her father’s eye between yawns. Draco winks. Hermione smiles. Life is exceptionally good.
-4-
How I Fell In Love With My Wife, by ilkee
This was how he liked her best. Asleep.
When her dark, frank eyes were not staring at him, stretching his reluctant emotions like a rubber band, he could finally drop the scowl that had been etched on his face since the day he was told he would have to marry Hermione Granger.
As she lay in quiet surrender he could look openly at her. He could allow his eyes to take in the curve of her shoulder, to roam the resting planes of her cheeks, and the scattering of freckles on her nose. And to stare for long stretches of time at her mouth.
He hadn’t slept properly in months.
He lay next to her, in the bed she insisted on sharing, and listened to her breathing, eyes focused on her softly parted lips.
He had never really touched her. Not even to hold her hand on the day they were married. It felt like an insurmountable obstacle. The Great Wall of China.
Once, when she was sleeping, like she was now, he poked a curl lying defenselessly on his pillow.
But now, his fingers craved something far worse.
He wanted to touch her mouth.
For weeks he had been consumed with the idea. For some reason, the know-it-all’s mouth had become an obsession. With sideways glances he would catalog the many states of her mouth throughout the day. Her different smiles, a familiar smirk, pursed when she was reading, and this one, his favorite, her mouth at rest. This was the one that he sacrificed sleep for. The one he was desperate to touch.
He could do it. He could reach across and touch her mouth and be free of this madness and she would never know. He had been telling himself this for days. She would never know.
And just like he had done every night for more than a week, he slowly reached across the small space, eyes glancing up to hers to make sure she stayed locked in slumber.
But he stopped a millimeter away, the soft puffs of her hot, moist breath fanning over his fingertips and his heart racing. He watched his fingers hover over her mouth. She would never know.
He looked up at her then to see that it was safe, only to find dark, serious, eyes pinning him. His breath stuck in his throat. He was caught. Frozen in place.
Her gaze dropped to his fingertips and then back to his eyes and his heart hammered in his chest. And then her lips moved, and his eyes were riveted there, as her small pink mouth closed around his fingertip in a soft kiss.
“Wife,” he said in a surprised, strangled whisper. She smiled and wrapped her hand around his and brought it to her chest, and closed her eyes.
-5-
Malfoyish, by savepureness
“I don’t know what you want from me, honestly.” He pauses, waiting for a reply that doesn’t come. Instead, he gets a glare; a long, painful glare, the very definition of miscommunication. “There is, indeed, a hidden side of me. But that, I can never let you see.”
Draco’s last words do trigger a reaction. Hermione stands up and starts pacing the room, perhaps more nervous than we she had to take the O.W.L.S. She might hold the key to understanding in her hand - the key to define their relationship, and perhaps to finally step out of the vicious circle they’ve been going in for too many months.
“Is that hidden side -“ she pauses briefly, “- bad?”
A flicker of amusement animates his features. He looks impish when he gives her a lopsided smile.
“Not really, no. It might be, though.”
Suddenly, he buries his face in his hands. Now that is unexpected: Draco is, all in all, renowned for maintaining perfect composure. Unless he breaks; and to the date, Hermione thinks she remains one of the few who have seen what’s hiding under the golden cover.
“Is this - it?” she asks, uncertain. “Like this, like now, when you panic? Because if it is, it’s nothing. It happens to everyone, all the time.” She tries to sound encouraging and optimistic, though that part of her unconcerned with troll reproduction or how to count backwards in Rhunic - that part called female intuition - tells her she might be wrong.
She is wrong.
“I keep it caged, Hermione,” he finally says, a sea of sadness in his eyes. “I can’t - I can’t control it; and I’m afraid to let it go.”
They’ll need another full (but vicious) circle, another cycle of months, before she finally figures out that meant I love you.
Return to Main Page